


A Dare Too Many

by CaptainWorsfold



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, AU - Brotherhood, F/M, axgweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWorsfold/pseuds/CaptainWorsfold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another sort of Brotherhood AU set around the Dare prompt for 'axgweek'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dare Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> I solemnly swear to finish Mi'lord not My lord... but at the same time... have a oneshot about Arya, Gendry and Stoneheart...

 

**1\. Have the courage to do something**

2\. defy or challenge

**3\. take the risk**

 

“How long are we staying here?” Lem’s voice was somehow loud to bellow out over the procession of Brotherhood members - all of whom were tired, grumbling and competing against the heavy rainfall of the night. Ever since news had carried to their camp in their caves over what had transpired at the Twins they had been heading north - north to see if they could find anything that remained of House Stark.

 

That anything could have remained of the shattered girl who had never cried. Had never shed a tear. Hadn’t once risked it. 

 

“Not long.” Thoros, the red priest, bellowed back. His head thrown over his shoulder to glance towards where the voice had come from. The rain beating down on the boiled leather of the saddles and nothing was left dry by the unrelenting storm, the leaves had become heavy and ladened - unable to give or create shelter from the rain.

 

The girl sat below one of the trees on her horse, letting the rain fall down her face and hair in large, clinging droplets - her short hair sticking to her face and her grey eyes staring blankly at the drops sloshing mud against the legs of her horse. The mud clung to the horse’s fur and the girl’s breeches, coating everything in dark brown slime.

 

They were soon to move on, towards the Twins in a slow convoy of horses and men. Arya lagged behind slightly, but was still keeping pace with the others, 

 

The Brotherhood noticed, of course they noticed, but they always sent Gendry to see to her. 

“Arya…” Gendry rode close beside her, his saddle almost touching hers as he led his horse towards hers. The gap been filled by Gendry’s large presence broke her from her thoughts - his hand placed against her saddle causing her to realise just how far she had strayed from the group.

 

“C’mon you two.” Anguy yelled over his shoulder, a smirk ghosting over his lips. Maybe a few weeks ago, after the incident at Acorn Hall, the smirk would have lingered and maybe a quip spoken. But even the archer could not find the words to make a joke about it all. “We’re not far now.” 

 

“How far is ‘not far’?” Gendry asked, his eyes narrowing at the back of the man’s head in the knowledge that was probably not true. Since he had heard them say that they were ‘not far now’ for the past three stops they had made. 

 

“I can hear running water…” Anguy stated and Gendry strained to hear the ‘running water’ the arguer could hear; Arya seeming to do the same - but Gendry could not tell, for she had barely changed from how she was riding before. 

 

“Are you sure that’s not the path, Anguy?” Tom tried to get a laugh, and a few of the brotherhood did, for the ground seemed so saturated that the paths were running with mud like the river itself would be.

 

“I’m sure.” 

 

Soon enough, the archer turned out to be correct.

 

They arrived by the banks of the river in one quick movement, the familiar and signature red hair floating on one of the stripped bodies. It did not take long for the girl to have seen the body and pounce down from her horse to charge and run for the body. Harwin was quick on her heals, prepared to help the girl that he had helped ride around the Wolfswood and the woman that had scolded her afterwards. The woman, the Lady Stark. 

 

“Save her!” Arya turned to the Red Priest, her eyes pleading with the man. Harwin stood at her side, the same words uttered from his mouth and a similar look on his face. “You said you couldn’t save my father.” She insisted, looking at him with big eyes lined with tears. Gendry almost wished that the tears would fall, because then - maybe - the old Arya may return. “Please” When Thoros didn’t respond the simple, quite word was uttered as the man stared down at Lady Stark’s body.

 

“I can’t girl.” Thoros’ own voice sounded detached from his body, scratchy and uncertain, but sure enough to know what he was saying was true enough. “Its been days.” He frowned, glancing hesitantly over to where Beric was stood and hoping the man would understand - but it didn’t seem like he didn’t. “I don’t know how she will be…” Thoros hoped that his friend and Lord would not be so foolish as to try.

 

“Save her!” She pounced forward, her pleading shouts were louder than the rush of the river in the rain or how her shouts had been when the Hound battled Beric in the cave. Her pleads were hard to ignore, especially when they were added to by Harwin - but Thoros knew he could not do it, because she would not be the Lady Stark anymore. 

 

“Arya.” Gendry stepped forward and pulled Arya towards him, holding her to him and back from her mother’s body. He glanced around, hoping to find somewhere that they could turn where he would not be facing the horrors - but he could not find it. One giant of a corpse beheaded, arrows littering the body. Another, a woman’s, with a gaping axe wound in her stomach. To his left, a man’s with a crossbow bolt through his mouth. To his right… thousands of other corpses. The marshlands littered with thick skinned white bodies and faces. Screaming silently above the whistling of the grass and the thunder of the rain.  

 

“Listen to the boy, I cannot do this.” Thoros frowned, looking around at the hundreds of Stark, Manderly, Umber, Mormont, Flint and many more sigils he did not recognise - for those that had sigils, many did not have. The other brotherhood members all seemed as distraut, struggling with the sights before them.

 

“But I can.” Beric looked towards Arya, nodding lightly before bending down and pressing his lips to Lady Catelyn Stark’s - whatever warmth passing from Beric to her.

 

“No!” The cry fell on silent ears as Beric fell back, dead. 

 

And she rose…

 

A few moments after the one on which Catelyn Stark’s eyes reopened, even Arya knew that the woman had no shred of her mother existed in the woman walking towards her. Her mother would never have attacked Gendry, her mother would never have attacked _her_. 

 

For that woman was not her mother.

 

For that woman seemed to scream until the was no air left. For she stared at the young girl as if the dead had risen in more than one person. For she stared at the boy beside her as if she wished to kill him. 

 

For the woman had clawed at the boy, for the woman had hardly noticed as her daughter pulled him away from her.

 

For Beric Dondarrion had dared to bring back the Stark matriarch when the sounds of a young woman’s voice had gotten too much. For Gendry had dared enough to hold that young woman into the night as the tears finally fell - for Arya Stark had finally been reunited with her family, and nothing would ever be the same again.

 

Arya had hardly spoken in the time she had spent in her friend’s company, ever since the arrival of ‘The Lady’ as the men called her, she had barely left Gendry’s company - just sat with him as he worked or beside him as they ate. And Gendry couldn’t find it in him to question her behaviour - because he had no words for what had transpired on the river bank that week before.

 

The long week that passed as if no one was watching it, as if no one cared anymore and it’s ghost passed through with little disruption.

 

“Gendry?” It had been seven days, seven days had passed since ‘The Lord of Light’ had allowed ‘The Lady’ to rise and seven days of hunting had begun. And on that seventh day, Arya finally spoke up. “I wish they hadn’t done it.” 

 

The words stung in her mouth, but he knew they rang true. As the heat of the forge beat at his back and the sounds from in the inn echoed through the open window panes - even he knew the words she spoke were truer than the fact the sky was blue or the grasses and forrest green. Because he was sure that Lord Beric would have gone against what had happened if he knew the consequences. 

 

But still, as Arya had found the words to say what was on her mind - Gendry could not. He could not understand why the woman had attacked him. He could not find it in him to say the words that agreed with what **his** lady had said. So he only nodded in agreement and looked down at the sword he had been fixing - noticing how it seemed even less balanced then it had when Lem had given it to him.

 

“Can you hold me?” She asked him as she moved off the ledge she had so often perched on. In the distance he could just about make out the eyes of some of the men inside the inn, most notably old Beric’s squire and the singer who all watched the two of them with some sort of worry or intrigue. Gendry could not tell anyone where ‘The Lady’ had gone, but he hoped she would not be back any time soon and he slowly, but surely, adhered to Arya’s request. 

 

She seemed weaker from when he last had held her, perhaps because they both had not eaten much since ‘The Lady’ arrived - both not having the stomach for it any more. But as he held her, he felt a small rumble come from her stomach and an odd sound burst from his lips - a laugh. A laugh that seemed to fill the air with a warmth that could only be matched by the crackling heat of the forge behind them.

 

“Shall we go eat then?” He nodded at her as she stepped from his arms and into the cooler air of the forge once more. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Time the passed with little regiment, the year marked by events that came from King’s Landing, the North or Dorne. Someone dared to kill another king, someone dared to fight for the imp, someone dared to ride north to help the wall. And still Arya and Gendry stayed close to the woman that someone had dared to bring back to life.

 

Never had they actually seen the deeds that men spoke of carried in ‘The Lady Stoneheart's’ name. Never had they watched a Frey swing or a Bolton burn. 

 

They had spent all of their time at the crossroads inn, watching and listening as news passed through about a trail by combat for a imp monster. Watching as a tall blonde woman entered, with a boy and a man. Listening as she asked about Sansa and spoke of her mother. Speaking, as she seemed so determined to speak of her mother’s final command. “Lady, it’s probably best if you stop looking for the Stark girls.” Arya had told her and her two friends one day, as she asked another man the questions.

 

“Why is that, girl?” The taller and older man had snapped at her as she placed down a meek looking plate of food, glancing down at the orphans as she did so. They all looked up at her like they did Jeyne Heddle, with big eyes that seemed hardened every day she saw them - but Arya’s irritation at the people before her rolled from her in strands, and the orphans quickly picked up on it.

 

“Because no good will come of the questions.” Arya bit out, narrowing her eyes at the man before glancing over the her shoulder as she heard a horse whinny outside of the window. Thinking it was the brotherhood, she was quick to look - but it was nothing more than the horses tied to the post outside. “And perhaps the girls do not want to be found.” She glanced over the three before her once more, her voice coming out in little more than a murmur as her eyes grazed over the youngest boy - her hands clutching the jug to her chest and her feet turning her to face the other way.

 

Almost as soon as she reached the kitchen door, Hot Pie yelled out from inside the heated room. “Arry! Gendry want’s to see you in the forge!” He poked his head out of the door, not expecting Arya to be stood just before the door and bumped into her. 

 

Arya glared slightly at him before the woman’s voice echoed across the room as she stood. Hot Pie suddenly ducked out of the way and left Arya stood before the door. “You’re Arya Stark?” The woman started to make her way towards where Arya was. “Come with me, please!” She grabbed Arya’s arm as the jug swung out to her side, hitting agains the armour of the woman with a heavy clang. “Let me help you!”

 

“Let go of me!” Arya yelled, glaring at the woman and throwing away her arm. “You can’t help!” She echoed once more before turning away from the onlookers and looking towards the doorway. “You can’t help whilst she’s alive.” She yelled out and made a run for the smithy, the clanging and noises she left behind did not bother her. Her feet carrying her there, no matter what her thoughts would tell her to do. 

 

“Arry!” Gendry yelped out in shock when the smaller girl ran into the smithy at a speed he’d only ever seen her reach once before - when they were running from Harrenhal. He saw the panic running through her eyes, crazed and worried. “Are you okay?” He placed his hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her.

 

“That woman knows who I am…”  She said in flustered words and lost thoughts. 

 

“Don’t worry about it Arya.” 

 

And in that moment, Gendry thought of how all their worries had seemed to slip away as she once again slipped into his arms - his aching, tired arms. All he needed to do was take the risk, just take the risk and press his lips to hers - so he did. So he took the risk and felt the worries of the blonde woman knowing a name and a ‘Hooded Hangwomen’ in Dondarrion’s place, worries of the orphans and worried of what would happen if gold cloaks somehow found their inn. And him. And her. Worries, just seeming to disappear.

 

Worries that all flooded back as their problems caught up with them once more. But for a moment, a singular moment in the horrors of that war - everything seemed to have just slipped away and their courage just remained. Their courage, their hopes, their dreams and them.


End file.
